Hello Molly
by cumberbabe1978
Summary: Sherlolly! During the fall Sherlock stays with Molly, but what will happen with the consulting detective and his mousey pathologist. Disclaimer: I own nothing. Chapter 9 has now been added, please read and review. I hope you enjoy Sherlollians :-) xxx
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi guys. I hope this is more in character of Sherlock and Molly, and I apologise that in my last story Molly echoed Irene's personality. I own nothing; it al belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss, Stephan Moffat and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Feel free to send me prompts on Tumblr, Twitter and on here, cumberbabe1976. Also if you would like I can speak Spanish and can rewrite all of this in Spanish :-)**

**Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy it! **

**SM**

Chapter 1:

Pain. That's all I remember after he left; the dull aching in the place where my heart should be and the guilt of lying to everybody chewing at my insides. But that was nothing, whenever I saw him battered, bruised and bleeding was when it hurt the most, knowing that he'd done this all to save three people. Three very important people, to him that is. I guess this was what unrequited love is: the constant pain and the brutal reality that you know nothing will ever happen between you and the subject of all your fantasies. However you would think all of these things would drive you away but if he asked me to do what I did, and do, again I would, without hesitation. As each week would come and go Sherlock's visits became fewer and further between. Slowly weeks turned to months and months have turned to years; the last time I saw Sherlock was on the 1st of January three years ago.

**_XXXX FLASHBACK XXXX_**

The wind wailed against the window panes and the rain tapped heavily at the window. Maybe it was the lightening that drew my to gaze out the window, or it might have been woman's intuition but the exact moment I went and stood at the window and stared out into the dreary night my gaze was returned by a icy stare from a familiar set of cobalt eyes.

"Sherlock?" I asked opening the window to let the former consulting detective in.

"Molly you know it's me there is no need to ask such stupid questions. You recognised my eyes; you're pupils are dilated and you're breathing heavier than usual. Honestly, what is it like in your funny little brain of yours?" Sherlock announced ducking and sliding gracefully through the window and into my flat. He was soaked, his leather jacket soaked through and the rest of his clothes dirty and damp; his shorter mousey locks clinged around his face and he dripped all over the carpet. Despite all of this he still looked gorgeous.

"Sherlock, erm you n...nnn...need to erm bathe and I n..n...need to clean and dry your clothes." I stuttered, looking down at my hands and not at him.

"Fine. I will have a shower, then I will have some of your left over dinner. After those tasks have been completed you will tend to my injuries and then I will get some rest." Sherlock announced, already making his way to the bathroom, clothes left where they fell after making his way there.

Half an hour later Sherlock had finished the first two items on his task list and was wrapped up in one of Molly's spare dressing gowns. I was mentally preparing myself for what was about to happen. I walked from my tiny kitchenette to the living room, bringing with me two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits. When I reached my worn suede sofa, where Sherlock, for the moment occupied, I placed the drinks and biscuits on the coffee table to the right of it, where the book I was currently reading lies. 'Just ignore him, act like a normal human being' I said to myself, hoping that that was going to prevent me acting like a school girl with a crush on the professor.

"Ready?" I squeaked, panicking already; the butterflies fluttering violently around my stomach.

"Always." He muttered, slipping into his mind palace.

He left during the night. I heard my door creek open and the light from the hallway stream onto my face. Luckily the one thing I could do was fake sleeping so I stayed still, keeping my breathing steady. I heard him cross the room until I could feel his breath on my face.

"Goodbye Molly Hooper, thank you." He whispered, gently caressing my cheek and placing a soft kiss on my forehead. The sound of foot steps returned, followed by the creek of a door and a click of the lock. Then there was silence.

**_XXXX FLASHBACK END XXXX_**

I took a deep breath, making an attempt to calm down. Sadly the tears fell and the weather was the pathetic fallacy in the background, the rain mirroring my tears. Soon I had no tears left to shed and thought the best idea would be to lock up and wallow in bed. I pulled across the dead bolt on the door and did he chain, ensuring that the door was locked. After doing that I turned around and headed towards my bedroom, but stood staring out of my window was a tall, slender figure.

"Sherlock!" I gasped in shock.

"Hello Molly." He replied.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Hi guys, back again, chapter 2. Sorry it's a bit late, I'm on my holiday in Spain, so the phrase 'manaña' is very applicable to when and how food is served. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading.**_

_**SM ;-D**_

**Chapter 2:**

"Hello Molly." He replied. He turned to face me.

"H...h..how did you get in?" I asked. I held my breath, expecting some snide remark about my intelligence and how my ordinary brain couldn't work it out myself.

"Your bedroom window was open, for your cat I presume." He simply replied. I released the breath I had been holding.

"Oh, of course, I'm so stupid." I stuttered, turning away from him and heading towards the kitchenette.

"You're not you know." He mumbled

"I'm sorry?" I asked. Stopping, thinking I had heard it incorrectly.

"I said, you're not stupid, Molly." He announced.

"Oh, t...t...thanks, I think." I muttered, looking at him for a moment and then turning away. Walking into the kitchen I set myself to work, preparing Sherlock something to eat and drink. Suddenly I heard a strong base then the lyrics "I like 'em big, I like 'em chunky. I like 'em big, I like 'em plumpy..." I launched myself into the living room and attempted to take the remote of Sherlock.

"Sherlock please turn it off. Please, Sherlock, you don't want to listen to this." I pleaded, now sat on his lap trying to grab the remote that was now held in his hand as far away from me as possible. The song continued "I like 'em round, with somethin', somethin'."

"Please Sherlock. Just give it here." I giggled, climbing all over him trying to get the remote. He started giggling, his baritone laughter vibrating in his chest. This only fuelled my laughter, causing me to laugh harder. Despite this we still continued fighting over the remote, rolling about on the sofa. Sherlock was still winning, his body pinned mine underneath his, remote now forgotten it was strewn across the room and sat under the coffee table in the middle of the room.

The laughter stopped, and were still entwined on my sofa, Sherlock's icy eyes burning into mine. During the battle for the remote my hands were in his hair and were massaging his scalp. I now noticed his dark curly locks were back and it was as silky as it looked. He groaned, closing his eyes.

"Molly." He warned, opening his eyes.

"Oh, S...S...Sherlock, I'm so sorry, I didn't realise." I stuttered, untangling my fingers from his tresses.

"I didn't mean stop." He purred, his eyes darkened.

"Right, erm, okay." I replied, intertwining my fingers with his hair again and massaging his scalp.

"Molly?" Sherlock asked, placing his hands either side of my face and caressing the bit of hair that curled around the side of my face.

"Yes Sherlock." I whispered staring through my eyelashes at him, my fingers tightening on his scalp.

"Can I kiss you?" He said, searching my eyes for the answer.

"Wait, what?" I gasped, shocked at what he just said.

"Do I have to repeat myself? You heard what I said perfectly alright, you are just second guessing me."

"Yes, I mean, you may kiss me." I said, stumbling over the words. He leaned towards me, I could feel his warm breath dancing across my skin. Then his lips touched mine, it started of as a whisper but it was building.

It felt like hours after we broke apart, chests heaving, pulse raised.

"Wow, that was..." Sherlock tried to speak but couldn't find the words, almost as if his brain has stopped and the machine was silenced.

"Yeah, erm, right. Y..y...y...you need food Sherlock, I will just go and..." I stuttered, pulling myself off Sherlock and heading back into the kitchen to reheat the left over Thai green curry that I left last night. When I placed it in the microwave I just stood there, my right hand touching my swollen lips and my brain attempting to contemplate what had just happened. Then I heard the patter of foot steps and when I looked up a rather messy looking consulting detective stared back.

"So, erm, is Thai green curry okay?" I asked, attempting to sound nonchalant about it, sadly it only came out squeakier and more mouse like.

"That will be acceptable," he replied, still staring at me like I was the dinner. Luckily the microwave went ping so I could turn away and not have to face Sherlock analysing me after what had just happened. I grabbed the tea towel from the oven and grabbed the plate. I placed it on a tray, with cutlery, and removed the cling film.

"There you go. I need to sleep, erm, just please eat it Sherlock, for me. Night." I mumbled already halfway out of the kitchenette.

I was almost asleep when the creaking of a door roused me from the purgatory state I was in. To my surprise the creaking of my opening door wasn't caused by a small fluffy creature, but instead a rather large curly haired man-child.

"May I?" He said, removing his clothes strategically.

"Of course, " I said without hesitation, shifting over slightly so he could slide into the bed easier.

"Thank you, Molly." and the rustling of a duvet was all I heard before drifting to sleep, because for the first time in a long time, I felt at peace.

_**A/N: The lyrics of the song was from Madagascar 2 and was Moto Moto :-D**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Hi guys, back again. I hope you enjoyed the last chapter. Thank you for the reviews, follows and favourites. Sadly as always I own nothing; it all belongs to the BBC, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Stephan Moffat. I apologise, Sherlock goes very OOC in the chapter.**_

_**I hope you enjoy! :-)**_

_**SM**_

**Chapter 3:**

I woke up, feeling something soft and silky brushing against my nape.

"Mmmm...Toby...I'll feed you later." I mumbled, snuggling deeper into the duvet. Sadly this didn't stop the nuzzling, the silky hair still tickled my...wait...when had Toby grown hair and not fur.

"Molly, that isn't the way to greet your bed mate." Sherlock grumbled, his baritone voice hoarse. Suddenly he flung one of his long arms over my waist, pulling me snug against him and placing a soft kiss to the back of my head.

"M...m..morning Sherlock." I stuttered, suddenly freezing against him.

"I believe we are past stuttering, Molly. It was cute at the beginning..." Sherlock started before I interrupted.

"You thought m..m..my stuttering was c..c...cute?" I asked nervously.

"Erm, well, erm, I..." Sherlock muttered, not forming coherent sentences. I looked over my shoulder at him, searching his eyes for the answer. Noticing his cheeks and tops of his ears were slightly pink.

"Sherlock are you blushing?" I asked,

"No, don't be stupid Molly." He said, suddenly removing his arm from my waist and shuffling out of bed. I felt like an arrow had gone through my heart; the hope that was once there was destroyed. A tear fell, and the sobs began; I tried to hold them back but they wouldn't stop, like an attacking armada. Then there was a weight on the bed next to me.

"Molly, please don't cry. Not over me. I just..."

"You always say such horrible things, always." I whispered, refusing to look at him.

"Look at me Molly, please." Sherlock asked,

"You are just as bad as him, you used me for your own personal gain and you didn't think twice about the consequences. You lied. I never counted and you have never trusted me..." I sniffled, tears falling down my cheeks.

"Oh, Molly, shhhh." Sherlock uttered, pulling me closer and rubbing up and down my arm. "You're wrong Molly, you do count and I trust you with my life. I apologize for using you in the way I did but everything said wasn't a lie. I liked you're hair in a side bun..."

"What?" I chocked, unable to speak over the tears. My body shaking with the sobs that wracked through my body.

"My Molly, my pathologist. Why do you doubt yourself?" He asked running his long fingers through my hair. "Ahh. Whatever he did to you doesn't need to define you Molly; you don't have to be a product of your past." Sherlock's voice was comforting and soon my sobs stopped. "When you are ready to tell me about what happened..." He started, feeling like he didn't need to continue he placed a kiss on my forehead and strode into the kitchenette.

Ten minutes later I emerged from my bedroom, smelling something from the kitchenette, I headed to where I thought Sherlock might be.

"Oh, Sherlock, erm, I d..d...didn't know you could cook," I said surprised to find a selection of breakfast foods on the table. This was not as surprising as finding Sherlock in a pair of dark jeans that hung just so on his hips.

"Yes, just because I don't do anything doesn't mean I am unable to do it. Stop staring Doctor Hooper." He announced, his back to me.

"Sorry." I mumbled, taking a plate and picking up some pancakes, grilled tomatoes and a slice of bacon. He turned around, wearing his signature smirk.

"For someone with an above average intelligence level you are very unobservant." He said, his smirk turning into a smile.

"Sarcasm. The l..l..lowest form of wit, so they say." I stuttered, finally realising what Sherlock was referring to. Sherlock's cobalt eyes lit up.

"Well done Molly, quicker than John." He said. Then the light in his eyes was gone, the one name that Sherlock would die for, and did die for, in the eyes of many.

"He's met someone: Mary Morstan. I know her, she's nice; used to work in the Haematology department. They met when she had moved to the A&E department; John went in after a fight because someone said something about you. Mary claims it was love at first sight and I believe her. He loved her from the moment they met. They couldn't be more perfect for each other." I stated, answering the unsaid question. But as I said it I felt guilt, knowing that all of this time I had been lying to them, lying to the world, but they still trusted me. I couldn't eat. The guilt was eating away at me, but for him I had to be strong.

We sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime until Sherlock broke the silence.

"Thank you, Molly." He said, turning to face me.

"For what?" I asked, confused about what he meant.

"For being you. For saving me, and most of all thank you for loving me." His voice broke halfway through the sentence; his calm façade shattered, revealing a young innocent boy.

"What do you need?" I asked, knowing that this one sentence had the power of an army and the strength of an ox.

"You."

_**A/N: Thank you for reading. Please review and let me know if you think I should leave the story here or write more and see how Sherlock and Molly's relationship develops.**_

_**Thank you**_

SM


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Hi guys, thank you for the follows favourites and reviews. As requested here is another chapter for you all. Both are more OOC in this and I'm so sorry. It's also a bit shorter this time, I was writing it on my flight back from holiday.I hope you enjoy. As always I don't own anything; it all belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss, Stephan Moffat and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**_

_**Thanks and enjoy.**_

_**SM :-)**_

**Chapter 4:**

"You." He said again after a moment of silence. He knew what that one three letter word meant to me. Those three letters is what I clung onto for 3 years; that is all I had, apart from one text message each year on my birthday.

"Why?" I asked, curious of his motives behind it.

"Deduce it Molly, you've done it before, do it again. Why would I use THAT word now?" He replied, looking at me like he used to, reading me like an open story book.

"I can't, Sherlock, I'm not you. I can't I'm just a pathologist, remember." I stated, looking up into his icy blue eyes.

"Yes you can. As I said 'You've done it before' Molly; even The Woman couldn't do that." He announced, turning and looking out of my window at the street below.

"I didn't observe Sherlock, I stated a fact, based on evidence. That's what I do m..m...my job is b..b..based on facts." I stuttered, looking at Sherlock and placing a hand on his shoulder.

" No, you don't understand. Gahhhh." He bellowed turning around, shaking off my hand, "Why can't you understand this, it is simple, even for ordinary people. Do I have to phrase this simpler?" He enquired, the distain and irritation clear in his voice.

"Yes S...S...Sherlock. Because I am an ordinary human I need you to elaborate for me." I mumbled, feeling smaller than a mouse, tears welling up again.

"The Woman couldn't see and her brain was higher tuned than yours.." He paused while I muttered a " Gee thanks," after he insulted my intelligence, but it wasn't the first time he had insulted my intelligence, and I'm sure it wouldn't be the last.

"No, no you don't understand. The Woman was much more intelligent than you and look where it got her... She fell for sentiment too and she almost died..."

"Does nobody die anymore?" I asked frustrated at learning that this Adler woman was after Sherlock and had probably won. "I bet she's working with you to take down this web." I mumbled, anger flaring up inside me.

"Well erm, yes. People do die Molly; you see it everyday. What a stupid thing to ask. Where was I, ahh yes. Miss Adler and her almost death. Well yes I saved her, would be a waste of a brain if I didn't and I worked with her briefly last year, she's run off with a Russian mobster now. Will you just let me finish what I was saying?" He said, still sounding irritated.

"Y..y..yes." I said, stumbling over my words, feeling anxious, knowing what he was going to say was going to hurt, I prepared for the worst.

" Doctor Molly Mabel Hooper, you saw me. You saw the real Sherlock William Holmes, the man that not even Mycroft has seen. The most intelligent people couldn't see it but you, you are different. Why would I choose you over everybody else? Why didn't I tell John? It wasn't because of the gun that was pointed to his head. I may have been informed that I don't have a heart and I might believe that sentiment is a chemical defect found in the loosing side but look what I've witnessed and experienced. Why would I come back to you? There is one man left. Sebastian Moran: Former military man, used to be in the same regiment as John. You aren't in danger, neither is John, Lestrade or Mrs Hudson. So tell me Doctor Hooper; why would I come back to you?"

"Oh... Erm... Okay... Because John is away and Mrs Hudson is in Cuba?" I asked.

"What? No. Molly, you aren't like them. You are something new; you are my 244th type of tobacco ash, so to speak. Doctor Hooper you aren't ordinary, whatever I said before delete it, it is not important. Molly you have become a sanctuary, my personal Utopia..." Sherlock said.

"A..a...are you trying to tell me in your own way that you might possibly like me?" I squeaked, unsure about what the answer would be.

"Yes, I believe that to be correct, yes. Well... What do we do now? This isn't my area..." He replied, taking a step towards me so his chest touched mine.

"Erm, well when people announce that the like each other t...t...they usually kiss.." I said, attempting to get my words out. Then before I knew it his lips were on mine and my hands were in his hair.

Fifteen minutes later we were still basking in Sherlock's revelation when there was a knock at the door.

"Molly, it's me Darren. I came to see if you were alright, you haven't called like you usually do... Molly? Hello." Darren shouted, bashing firmly on the door.

"Who's that?" Sherlock asked breathlessly.

" My brother, now HIDE!" I whispered, ushering him into my bedroom and closing the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N: Hiya guys, sorry about it being over a week since my last update, I've got exams and I have badly damaged my back. I am sorry to have left you hanging but I'm sure you all understand the pressure of exams. So here I am again and as always thank you so much for the reviews, favourites and follows. Sadly I own nothing; it all belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss, Stephan Moffat and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. This chapter is quite a bit shorter than my usual but as the usual:_**

**_I hope you enjoy._**

**_SM_**

**Chapter 5:**

"HIDE!" I hissed at Sherlock, ushering him towards my bedroom.

"Molly, are you there?" Darren asked, banging insistently on the door,

"Yes, I am, I'm just clearing up, give me a minute." I shouted shutting the bedroom door behind me, after chucking the rest of Sherlock's clothes in there. I then ran to the door, opening it swiftly and staring up at my brother. His hazel eyes boring into mine.

"Are you okay Molly? You seen a bit flustered," He said, pushing his brown hair behind his left ear.

"Yes, fine. I just didn't expect you to come round, erm. Do you want tea or coffee?" I asked politely, welcoming him into my flat.

"I'll have a tea please; white no sugar. Have you got some cake as well?" He asked, being surprisingly rude.

"No I don't have any cake Darren, just go sit on the sofa and I will bring whatever I have through." I answered calmly, heading towards the kitchenette. I filled up the kettle with water and put it on to boil, as I stood there some thing rustled behind me. I turned, expecting to see my brother, wielding a frying pan. Long pale fingers then wrapped around my wrist, causing me to drop the frying pan with a clatter on the floor. I almost shrieked because before me stood one very tall consulting detective.

"Molly? Are you alright?" Darren shouted obviously not making a move from the sofa in the middle of the living room.

"Yes, fine. I just knocked a pan off the side. S...s...s..sorry Darren." I replied, stuttering, glad that my brother was such a lazy sod.

"Okay, it's always like you to be sooo stupid." He sniggered to himself. I felt tears welling up; I refused to look at Sherlock, not wanting him to see me weak, I returned to filling up the mugs with hot water and placing the bag in the compost bin.

"Molly..." Sherlock whispered placing his hand on my left shoulder, attempting to turn me around. I refused to let him, standing rigid until he stopped trying. "Ignore him Molly, he is ordinary. Much like Anderson, he is too stupid to understand." He whispered, kissing the top of my head and padding out of the kitchen and back into my bedroom.

After taking a deep breathe I took the tea and biscuits to my brother, placing the tray on the coffee table.

" Why are you here Darren?" I asked glancing towards my bedroom door, seeing there was a small crack Sherlock was observing from.

"Come on Molly. You know why I'm here..." Darren murmured pushing some hair behind my ear.

" Darren you already owe me four thousand..." I stuttered, feeling anxious, knowing what was about to be said.

"No Molly, I don't. You NEED to understand the only reason you are here is because I MADE it happen. So either you pay up with money or you pay up with something else." He uttered, moving the hand from my hair down to my knee and up my thigh. I heard a shuffling from my bedroom and what sounded like a growl.

"D...D...Darren, get your hands off of me." I squeaked, trying to remove his hand, which was now a vice at the top of my thigh.

"Why Molly? Why should you, a little good for nothing brat, be let off?" He sneered, his eyes turning black. His mouth now curved into a sharp toothed grin.

"BECAUSE SHE IS MINE!" Sherlock's baritone voice bellowed from across the room. I turned, watching him stride towards us, and I felt no longer frightened.

"Oh look, Molly's boy toy of the moment is here to save her. You are exactly like the rest of them, NOTHING." He cackled. Sherlock's rage was no longer a burning ember, it was a volcano and about to erupt.

"HOW DARE YOU... YOU STROLL INTO HER HOME AND YOU ACT AS IF YOU OWN HER," Sherlock announced, but then he fell silent, lifting my brother to his feet and throwing him down on the floor. Sherlock throttled him, watching him change shades he leant in and whispered in his ear, being deadly serious," If you ever come near her again or try to take her funds or her body I will find you, I will hurt you and I will ensure you are six foot under before anybody knows you are gone. Also for good measure you will have a knock on your door tomorrow morning to ensure I am understood. The funds you owe Miss Hooper will be transferred from your account to hers in 3 hours, I expect all the funds to be there considering you are smuggling drugs into the country. If you tell anyone about this I will personally see to your 'removal'. If you ever contact her again I will not hesitate to kill you. I hope I am understood." Sherlock hissed, ignoring the body that tried to wriggle free beneath his grasp.

Suddenly Sherlock released him and Darren wheezed and struggled up and towards the door, he left as quickly as possible, considering his current state. Before I could say anything Sherlock was on the phone to Mycroft, arranging his plan of action and ensuring nobody could harm me. It was a bizarre notation, that Sherlock was talking about my protection. But still it was nice to know he cared . Noting he was still on the phone I walked into my bedroom, leaving the door open, knowing that Sherlock would follow soon enough.

Ten minutes later the sound of a large man padding towards my bedroom was the indication that Sherlock was about to walk in and we had to discuss what happened. The padding got closer until the soft click or the door roused me from the thoughts of impending doom. Sherlock joined me on the bed, pulling me close and wrapping an arm around my waist.

"Why?" I asked, curious about what he did what he did. He could have just left me, launched himself into his mind palace and been no more than a statue but he didn't. He is my protector, like I am his.

"Because Molly you do count. You are precious Molly, you are not ordinary, unlike your oeuf of a brother you are mildly intelligent and at least you can work your way round a dead body. Molly, where would I be if you weren't here?" He asked earnestly, letting all his walls crumble.

"Y...y...y...y...you w..wo..wou...would b..b..be d..d..d...d..d..d..dead." I replied, my stutter worse than ever.

"But I am not. You Molly Hooper are the single most important being in the universe. And you are My Pathologist."

_**A/N: Continue? Review :-) x**_


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N: Hi guys! Thanks for the reviews, favourites and follows. As I said in my prior chapter I have 12 exams coming up so this is very rushed and I apologise for that. As always I own nothing; it all belongs to Stephan Moffat, Mark Gatiss, BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I hope you enjoy this chapter._**

**_Thanks for reading_**

**_SM_**

**Chapter 6:**

"But I am not. You Molly Hooper are the single most important being in the universe. And you are My Pathologist." He whispered, unconsciously drawing patterns on my hip.

"Then you are My Consulting Detective." I replied, twisting around to face him, searching his eyes for his thoughts.

"Okay. That seems tolerable." He murmured, his usually frosty gaze had thawed; his blue eyes were warm. I lifted my hand, softly caressing his cheek, I pressed a soft kiss to his nose. I leant back, watching cautiously, ensuring I had done nothing wrong.

"Thank you, Sherlock." I said, deeply staring into his eyes. Interlacing his fingers with mine, he stared at them, rotating it so he could see every angle. Running his thumb over my scaphoid, he looked quizzically at me.

"Doctor Hooper." He breathed; I could feel his rapid shallow breaths dancing on my lips.

"Sherlock." I replied, inching closer to him. He leant in, gingerly pressing his lips to mine. His plush rose lips firm against mine; Sherlock grew more confident with each passing second, his tongue insistently prodded at the seam of my lips, trying to gain entry. I gasped, entwining my fingers into his dark silky curls, pulling on them lightly. He took this opportunity to thrust his tongue into my mouth and what seemed like try to sought out all of my 5000 taste buds.

Seconds turned to minutes and soon we were rolling about on the bed, nibbling each others necks when we needed oxygen. Suddenly there was a knocking at my front door. We didn't stop, this only fuelled our duel, are motions frenzied and clumsy. The knocking continued, Sherlock broke away just long enough, breathing heavily

"We don't want whatever you're selling." He shouted, his lips returned to mine; not wasting any time he started pushing up the crimson shirt up my torso. After Sherlock had shouted at the person at the door the knocking seized, leaving us in peace to do whatever we wanted to for the next, however long. Suddenly somebody cleared their throat and it definitely wasn't one of them.

"My, my. Sherlock, you are quite vulgar despite your lack of experience." A familiar cold voice announced, closer than they hoped. We suddenly stopped; both turning towards the direction of the voice.

"Mycroft!" I squeaked, pulling Sherlock closer to cover my exposed torso.

"Brother, you're timing as always is impeccable." Sherlock's voice oozing with sarcasm.

"Honestly Sherlock. What did I say about sentiment dear brother?" Mycroft said icily,

"This is nothing, Mycroft." He replied, staring at him with cold eyes.

"Good, I wouldn't want you falling prey to that trivial nonsense. Anyway you have been compromised. New target. Downstairs ten minutes, don't keep me waiting." His brother said, walking out of my flat and slamming the door behind him.

"THIS is nothing to you?" I muttered, pushing him off and crawling off the bed.

"No, that's not what I meant..." He said calmly, sitting up and running a hand through his curls

"T...t...then what did you mean Sherlock?" I enquired, confused at what he meant.

"I don't know what THIS is but all I know is that I don't want this to end." He retorted, staring at me and fiddling with his hands,

"R...r...really?" I stuttered, assessing him to see if he was lying to me.

"Yes, really. To use your words Molly, I do like you and I don't want Mycroft to interfere like usual. There are many things that Mycroft is and understanding is not one of them." He smiled,

"Okay, I...I...I...I should help you pack..." I muttered, smiling at him under my eyelashes and he smiled back.

Eight minutes later we were stood by my front door, my hand clasped around the handle; my other hand was clasped in his.

"Please be careful Sherlock. It would kill me if you really died." I mumbled, slowly looking up to meat his gaze.

"I will be." He replied, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles around my hand, "Do one thing for me?" He asked, pulling our entwined up to his lips and kissing my hand.

"Anything. What do you need?" I asked, without hesitation.

"Promise me you will wait for me." He muttered, looking no longer like a grown man but an innocent young boy,

"I promise." I whispered, turning out hands over and kissing his knuckles.

"Close your eyes for me." Sherlock mumbled, pulling me closer.

"Goodbye Molly."

_**A/N: Thanks for reading, the next chapter will be up soon, I promise.**_

_**Thanks again :-)**_

_**SM**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Hello. I cannot thank you guys enough for the favourites, follows and reviews; I am so happy that you have taken the time to do that, thank you. I have just watched the Day of the Doctor and the new Sherlock trailer and it reminded me that I must come back and finish this chapter for all of you. I am in MarBre582's words "[Bringing] Sherlock home soon." and I hope you enjoy.**_

_**Geronimo!**_

_**SM**_

**_Chapter 7:_**

"Close your eyes for me." Sherlock mumbled, pulling me closer. "Goodbye Molly."

That was it. He was gone. The fantasy has disappeared as quickly as it came; I no longer mean something to him. He is gone. I stood there for a moment, hoping that he'd walk through that door again, but soon realised he wasn't coming back. It felt like a serrated knife had punctured my chest, the pain unbearable, but I couldn't be weak; I had to be strong. For Him. This is what would keep me going every minute of everyday. I had to stay strong for him because no matter how blunt he was or how unkind he would always need someone; he pushed them away because he didn't want to be a slave to sentiment. Little did he know by doing that he only drew people closer.

"Case 13666. 19th June 2014. Performed by Doctor Molly Hooper at St Bartholomew's Hospital. The autopsy is begun at 8:30 AM. The body is presented in a black body bag. The victim is wearing a black ACDC print shirt and a pair of stained khakis; the victim has no jewellery but has a tan line around his right wrist and left hand ring finger. This suggests that he was right handed and married but having an affair. The body is that of a normally developed white male; he weighed 172 pounds and was 76 inches tall. The body is cold and unembalmed. Lividity is fixed in the distal portions of the limbs. The victim's face is unidentifiable due to blunt forced trauma to the head, face and neck. The victim has no major underlying health conditions, only liver deterioration due to excessive alcohol consumption. C.O.D is blunt forced trauma. Autopsy terminated at 9:27 AM." I finished my first autopsy of the day; dreading the mountain of paper work that I needed to complete I ran up to the lab, balancing all samples in my arms as I headed for the place that held my most poignant memory of Sherlock.

I sat at the agarose gel waiting for the DNA sample to separate each strand of bases so I could compare it to samples in the database. Most lab technicians would pop it into the machine and do it the lazy way but I liked to ensure that it was perfect and no machine could compare to doing it the long way.

"Molly. Morning!" a cheerful voice said from the doorway.

"Mike! So nice to see you. I was just about to get a coffee whilst I waited for the matches to load. Do you want one?" I asked politely.

"That would be lovely Molly. White no sugar." He replied smiling "I'll keep an eye on this for you." He finished sitting down on the bench, in front of the monitor.

"Great. I'll s...s...see you in a few." I stuttered, heading towards the canteen to get the coffee.

Five minutes later I arrived back at the lab doors; turning I pushed them open with my hip. I looked up at Mike, "Mike, are you alright?" I asked "Y...y...you look a bit peaky." I walked over and placed his coffee next to him.

"Molly...Erm... I'm so terribly sorry..." He mumbled, refusing to look up, sipping at his coffee nervously.

"I'm sorry? I don't follow." I queried, unknowing about what he was on about.

"There was a match... I'm so sorry Molly but it..it looks like your brother was the victim. I'm sorry for your loss." Mike replied solemnly, pulling me into a tight embrace. "I'll give you a week off. You need it. Don't worry about the autopsy and the reports I will do them for you." He said, letting me go but still holding me at the tops of my arms.

"Thank you Mike." I mumbled, a lump forming in my throat. I pecked him on the cheek and headed for the changing rooms.

I stood at my locker, taking out everything that didn't need to stay at the morgue. I then called my mum; I didn't know what else to do.

"Hello?" My mother asked

"Mum, it's me Molly. We need to talk." I said urgently,

"Sweetie, this really isn't the time. I can't deal with you right now..." She replied exasperatedly.

"Darren is dead," I announced bleakly.

"Don't lie to me Molly, I can tell..." Mother continued, not understanding.

"Mum! I did the autopsy, I did the DNA tests. .Dead." I whispered "I'm sorry."

" He can't be. He can't be dead!" she wailed, her audible sobs heart breaking.

"I'm sorry Mum but he is. I saw him." I uttered, feeling like I had missed something,

"I believe you Molly. I'm so sorry; I must go. Goodbye Sweetie."

"Goodbye Mum." I said dropping my mobile into my handbag. Swiftly, I grabbed my belongings and headed out of the building and home. Despite Darren being murdered all I felt was freedom; I was no longer somebody's bitch. I was free.

I stood at my door, fumbling with my keys, trying to get it in the lock.

"Would you like a hand with that?" A baritone voice rumbled from behind me. I turned and ended up staring into the most beautiful pair of icy blue eyes.

"Sherlock!" I whispered, pressing my lips to his in a soft kiss. He smiled, pulling away and takig the keys from my hand.

"Hello Molly."

_**A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Chapter 8 coming soon :-) **_

_**SM**_


	8. Chapter 8

**_A/N: Hiya guys, nice to be back. I have just finished 3 days of back to back exams from 9:00AM until 3:40PM since Wednesday. As always thank you ever so much for the follows, favourites and reviews. Sadly I still don't own anything it all belongs to Stephan Moffat, Mark Gatiss, the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. As I am indeed English(if you haven't guessed by my funny spellings and names for things) so I have just received the news that Sherlock returns 01/01/2014 by a weird yet lovely hello from Mark Gatiss in the form of a hearse and some naked man covered in blood, wrapped in a sheet. Sorry for rambling._**

**_I hope you enjoy._**

**_Geronimo_**

**_SM_**

_**Chapter 8:**_

"Hello Molly." Sherlock murmured, turning towards the door; smoothly sliding the key into the lock and swiftly entering my small untidy apartment. I followed Sherlock in, going straight to the kitchenette I put the kettle on and whilst waiting for it to boil I rifled around my cupboards to see what I had that was ready in minutes and still in date. I felt his presence behind me,

"Six months." I said, my head still stuck in the tinned food cupboard.

"Pardon?" He mumbled quizzically.

"Six months." I announced, pulling my head out of the cupboard and pivoted so I could see his face. "Nothing. I thought you were dead. Six months. SIX MONTHS. I heard nothing from you, not a single text and I didn't get kidnapped by Mycroft in some Jaguar to inform me that you weren't going to be the next man on MY slab and actually BE dead this time!" I cried, tasting the salty tears on my lips. Sherlock looked hurt; I suddenly felt like I'd killed a part of him. "S...S...Sherlock, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that. It's just my brother, Darren, the one you threatened, died and I did the autopsy without even knowing it was him. I'm so sorry Sherlock. Forgive me." I mumbled, raising my hand up to his angular zygoma and caressing it.

He placed one of his hands over mine, his calloused fingers were cold against my hand,

"Molly..." He started, his voice was hoarse and broken, "I'm sorry," I started choking. Sherlock was apologising and I didn't know whether to believe him or not. "Molly, I am truly sorry; I had no idea that what I was doing would effect you. I didn't want my carelessness to harm you in any way. You are special Doctor Hooper, never forget that." He finished, his once bright blue eyes were dull and his grip on my hand loosened as he pulled away and headed for the door.

"Sherlock, please wait, don't go. Sherlock!" I shouted, thankful that my two neighbours were deaf.

The front door slammed shut. I ran out of the apartment and down the winding sets of stairs to find him. I was battling on, down the stairs trying to reach the bottom in time. Suddenly I tripped falling down two flights. I heard the crack of bones and felt a snap in my arm. I cried out in pain and hoped that he had heard me. "Sherlock. I love you; please come back." I whispered, clinging on to some hope that he was still there and would come back to me.

I began to feel woozy and after a few moments I collapsed in a heap on the floor. Alone. In the background I could hear footsteps and feel a pair of strong arms pick me up and begin to carry me up the stairs. I tried to open my eyes, but all I saw was a haze, nothing in focus or coherent.

"Molly! Wake up. Please." A baritone voice begged, the owner of the voice was shaking me vigorously.

"Sentiment dear brother. Look and all you will see is weakness." A cold harsh voice replied,

"Liar." Sherlock bellowed, "Look at her and all you WILL see is strength. After everything she has done for you and me; you still treat her like dirt. Why? Is it because you have never felt sentiment? Or is it because you have never received sentiment, from another human?" He was angry now, this sounded like what John told me about when Mycroft told Mrs Hudson to 'Shut up.'

"You are like The Woman, you have fallen and you WILL suffer." Mycroft retorted,

"You. Are. Wrong." Sherlock said angrily, "I am nothing like her. She was weak; I won't fall like she did."

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you won't." Mycroft tested, his voice like a razor blade. He paused; I unconsciously stopped breathing for the silence. "I thought so." He said after a moment of silence had passed.

I exhaled; gasping for air I tried to sit up.

"Molly." Sherlock murmured thankfully, wrapping an arm around my waist and helping me up.

"Miss Hooper," Mycroft said curtly, his signature umbrella in the pot by the door.

"It's Doctor Hooper," Sherlock growled, "Are you alright Molly? Any dizziness, nausea, headaches, blurred vision..." Sherlock said, listing the symptoms of concussion...

"I'm fine Sherlock, It was the pain from my arm that made me pass ou..." I tried to finish my sentence but Sherlock's plush lips were pressing against mine insistently. Mycroft cleared his throat and we both turned to face him. Having Sherlock here made me feel empowered and so I decided to seize the moment. "Get out Mycroft." I insisted, my voice as cold as his was a moment ago,

"I'm Sorry?" He queried, a smug look on his face.

"I said 'Get Out, Mycroft'. I believe I incorrectly assumed you spoke the same language and so just in case you need explaining further; LEAVE NOW." I replied sweetly, looking straight at him.

"You will regret this Miss Hooper. Did you know he ki..."

"Killed my brother? Yes, I'm not an idiot, Mycroft. I know everything and I will love him no matter what." I said, stumbling to my feet with the help of Sherlock.

I walked to the door; picked up his umbrella, placed it underneath one foot and snapped it in half. "Good day Mycroft." I announced, swinging open the door; throwing his broken umbrella through and gesturing for him to leave. Thankfully this time he took the hint and strode out, not uttering a word upon his exit. I slammed the door behind him, smiling to myself that I was no longer the mousey pathologist.

I took a deep breath and smiled, cradling my broken arm I walked over to Sherlock and embraced him, relishing the feel of his strong arms around me, protecting me.

"Come on, let's get you to a hospital and all bandaged up." He muttered into my ear, hugging me tighter and then releasing me.

"Come on Molly."

_**A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. :-)**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: Hello again, nice to see you all again. I'm so sorry for the delay of posting this chapter I have been writing prompt fills and had many exams. Thanks for all the reviews, favourites and follows. Sadly nothing belongs to me, it all belong to the peeps stated in my earlier chapters.**_

_**Enjoy**_

_**Geronimo**_

_**SM**_

**Chapter 9:**

"Come on, Molly." Sherlock murmured grabbing the keys from the dish beside the door and holding it open for me.

"Okay, wait, Sherlock you need a disguise!" I said; suddenly remembering that he was still supposed to be dead I ran into the bathroom and grabbed his spare brown contacts and blond wig. "There! Let's go." I muttered thrusting them into his free hand. He quickly shut the door; arranged the wig on his head and stuck the contacts into his pockets.

"Ready?" He asked, already walking down the corridor.

"Yes, coming." I announced, jogging to keep up with him, resting my hand in the collar of my shirt.

After sitting in A&E for 4 hours we were finally seen by a doctor. "So, Miss Hooper. What happened exactly to get that kind of fracture?" Doctor Gale asked curiously. Sherlock growled to correct my title like he did with Mycroft.

" I tripped down two flights of stairs at my apartment building..." I replied politely, glaring at Sherlock for being so rude "Luckily my erm... boyfriend was there to bring me here." I continued, suddenly clasping Sherlock's hand and squeezing gently. He returned the gesture with a smile and brought our entwined hand up for a chaste kiss.

"Yes, so Doctor Hooper you will need to go to the plaster room. Consider yourself lucky you won't need surgery for this." The doctor said, handing me a sheet of paper to go to the plaster room with.

"Thank you doctor." I mumbled looking over the sheet of paper.

"We'll see you in three months to have your cast changed." He finished. Sherlock and I stood up and headed towards the plaster room, following the purple lines on the floor.

An hour later we were sat on the sofa of my flat with a pot of tea and some Bourbons, which were long since discarded. My white cast already graffitied by Sherlock with chemical formulas and equations. We were sat, cuddled together watching the new Derren Brown programme about the art robbery. Sherlock was sat there making remarks every so often about how he does it. "Sherlock?" I asked quietly, looking up at him through my eyelashes.

"Hmm." Sherlock hummed, glancing down and into my eyes.

"Why did you come back to me? You could have easily left me there but you came back..." I mumbled, looking at him confused.

"I came back because... I... Erm... I came back because I...I...I..." He struggled to find words, for once his brain failing him.

"S...S...S...Sherlock..." I stuttered, staring at his smouldering eyes.

"Molly, I always claim to be married to my work and that this really isn't my area. Many people have thought me to be homosexual with John but little do they know... Molly, my pathologist, my partner in crime. If I am married to my work then henceforth I am married to you because all my work leads me to you. So Doctor Molly Elizabeth Margret Hooper would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" Sherlock said.

**_A/N: Sorry it's really short, hopefully I will be back soon with the next chapter x_**


End file.
